Running
by Zelkina Blackheart
Summary: Undertaker needed to get away from everything. So he jumped on his bike and rode off. On his travels he met Zelkina, a woman who was running from her own demons. What was she running from exactly? And would Taker get his head straight in time for Wrestlemania?
1. Chapter 1 - Vanished

"Undertaker's gone missing"

"Missing?! What do you mean, missing?"

"As in we don't know where he is. We don't know where he's gone. We don't even know if he'll be back for Wrestlemania."

"Damn it! FIND HIM! Or the event is ruined!"

* * *

He'd been riding since ten that morning. He didn't really know where he was going, if he was honest. Just that he had to get away. Away from wrestling, from his life as it stood. A quick plane ride home after RAW, a good night's sleep, and without much thought to where he'd head he found himself on his bike headed towards Houston. Here, he'd stopped for breakfast, and carried on riding. The ride allowed him time to clear his head time to stop thinking about things for five minutes and just concentrate on the road. He looked over, viewing the Gulf of Mexico in the distance as he rode, and wondered why he'd never got himself a boat. Then again, there wasn't much point in owning a boat in his line of work. There was too much travel involved, too much time away for it to be worth it.

As the evening drew near, he found himself a long way from home and had reached New Orleans. Deciding a hotel would be a good idea, he looked around. It was pretty busy it seemed, as he tried several hotels without luck. No one gave a crap if you were a famous wrestler in New Orleans. Not that many would recognise him outside of his ring gear, Taker mused as he pulled up outside another hotel. The ageing white walls of the hotel reflected the lights from all around down in to the forecourt as he pulled in, and for a split second he wondered if he was doing the right thing by upping and wandering about this close to Mania. Then he remembered why he was gallivanting across the USA, and he headed towards a parking space. His eyes glanced over the bike parked up outside as he parked up his own, and he nodded in an appreciative manner at the purple, black and chrome. He adjusted his rucksack, and walked inside to see a woman dressed in a similar manner, bike leathers and with a rucksack on her back, at the check in desk.

"You don't have anything smaller? Or cheaper?" asked the woman as he approached the desk. He noticed her accent wasn't American as the clerk responded.

"No Ma'am, I'm sorry. The twin is all we have. If you can't pay full price I'm afraid I really can't help you." The woman sighed, and ran a hand through the black and purple hair. She stepped aside to think, and allow Undertaker to reach the desk.

"Sorry, did you say all you have is a twin?" He asked. The clerk nodded. Undertaker frowned. He could see the rates on the board at the back of the desk. He didn't want to spend out that much if it was just him sleeping in the room. He thought about the woman who had left the building, and ran out after her. She was just getting on the motorbike in question, and looked up as he called out to her.

"Hey, wait a second!" the woman looked up, and he saw the scratches on her cheek.

"what's up? She asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Listen. You need a bed for the night, I need one too, so, let's share the room." He offered.

"Buddy, if you think that's gonna work on me, you got another thing coming." She replied, zipping up her jacket.

"And if you think you're going to find another hotel room you can afford at 8pm in New Orleans, without travelling near enough to Lafayette, you're out of luck. Besides, I just need a place to sleep. That's it. And by the look of it, so do you." He added as now, the lights of the hotel showed she had bags under her eyes in accompaniment to the scratches.

"Alright, deal. But you try anything and I mean anything, I will break every bone in your body, got it?" She said with force. Undertaker held up his hands barely holding back the laugh that had bubbled up in his throat.

"Crystal clear." He replied. "The name's Mark," He said thinking of a name he'd used on screen a few years back. He held out a hand.

"Zelkina" She replied, taking it and shaking it. "Pleased to meet you."

* * *

A little while later, both sat in the hotel room, boxes of pizza that he'd bought as a peace offering on the bed, some rubbish drama thing on TV that neither were really paying attention to. It was more background noise than anything. He was wrapped up in his own world for the most part, but he noticed that she was frequently getting phone calls and hanging up on the person at the other end. Mainly because the person's ring tone was his entrance theme, and he was wondering how long it would take before she knew it was him.

"Someone is really desperate to get hold of you," He said, as his own phone began to ring. He looked at it, saw the number was Hunter's and hung up. It happened a few more times, from Hunter's phone number, Steph's number and Shawn Michaels's number, before he just turned it off.

"Someone is desperate to get hold of you too." She observed dryly.

"People aren't accustomed to me running away." He said with sarcasm, before picking up a piece of pizza.

"I know that feeling," she replied, more to herself than anything else. Her phone rang again and she too followed suit and turned it off. "So, what exactly are you running away from?" she asked, picking up another slice of pizza as Undertaker tried to figure out where he accent was from. He sighed.

"A lot of things. Predominantly, my boss wanting me to kick the crap out of his son. For reason's I don't agree with, yet I have to keep up appearances. This kids gonna get slaughtered cause of his dad, and I'm the poor sod that has to carry it out." He said, shaking his head. "Sometimes I think I chose the wrong career."

"You like the kid?" she asked. Undertaker meticulously studied the piece of pizza he'd just taken a bite out of before answering.

"He's a good kid. At least, he is now he's grown up. We've come to blows before, back when he was younger, and still under his dad's influence." He said after some thought. "He's done some stupid things before now. But his dad is the one I'd really like to put through hell right now, putting us both in this position. What kind of parent wants to see his own child in a pool of blood?"

"If i ever have the misfortune to see my mother in law again, I'll ask her for you." Zelkina said bitterly. "Perhaps not her own son, but she'd love to see her ex daughter in law in her own blood."

"Is that who you're running away from?" Undertaker asked, puzzled. Zelkina took a breath and nodded. "Mind if I ask why?"

"Simple. I can't deal with her crazy." She gestured to the scratches on her cheeks as she spoke. "Divorced her baby, and of course I'm some kind of harlot who trapped him for his money or some shit. I make almost double what he does, but nope, I was with him for his money."

"Because that makes total sense." Undertaker said, with a snort, getting a matching laugh from her.

"Maybe I'll tell you the story of when we first met if you're heading my way tomorrow. That's a barrel of laughs I can tell you. For now...I'm gonna get some shut eye. Been riding for days, I need some sleep." She replied, beginning to move things from the bed to the floor. Undertaker nodded, he felt his eyes weren't far off closing themselves. He doubted the girl would be there when he awoke, but if she was, her story had him intrigued. Maybe he'd go with, if only to hear what she said. It might have been a good idea to vanish after all, he mused as he lay down on the bed and switched off the bedside lamp. It could be an interesting few days.

* * *

Thanks for reading my new fic! hope you enjoyed, please don't hesitate to read my others, or leave a review! Zelkina xx


	2. Chapter 2 - Bike Rides and Brawls

Chapter 2: Bike rides and brawls

Voices. He could hear voices in his head. At least, as he slowly came to consciousness, he thought they were in his head. He shook his head and wiped his eyes, reminding himself he was not Randy Orton. The voices were close by and as he sat himself up, he remembered where he was and why. And that he'd shared a room with a stranger that night and it was her voice he could hear.

"Fucking hell, Darren, what part of "your Mother is a psychopath and tried to run me over" don't you understand?" she asked. A glance at the clock showed 6am. He groaned to himself, he was pretty annoyed about being woken up so early. Zelkina didn't sound much happier. Undertaker looked over and saw the woman walking up and down the room. He took in the leather trousers, the ripped t-shirt, the biker gloves. The jacket sat on a chair with the boots underneath. Had he been thirty years younger, she would have been his ideal target for a night of fun, or more. He could hear what he assumed to be her ex pleading with her, but she was having none of it.

"No, no I won't. She didn't mean it? What about when I said I was mildly allergic to certain household cleaners...yes she did spray the whole damn kitchen on purpose and you know it. Look, just tell her to leave me the fuck alone, she got what she wanted, got you back. Fuck off out of my life." Zelkina hung up, before slumping down on the edge of the bed, running her hands through her hair again, and making a strangled scream-like sound in frustration.

"Forgive me if I misheard, but did you just say that your mother in law tried to kill you?" he asked.

"Yeah. That bitch has had it out for me since day one." She said. "Anyway, thanks for letting me split the room with you. And sorry my dick of an ex decided to call this fucking early in the morning, and make me wake you up with yelling."

"Ah, don't sweat it. I'm kinda used to having to get up early. Not that I like it all that much." He replied with a wave of the hand. She laughed and blasted him with a smile. Yes, 30 years younger and he'd so be making a move, he thought to himself.

"I'm outta here in a few minutes, I've got a long way to go."

"Where are you headed?" Undertaker asked as he slid his legs from under the covers and stood up. To her credit, she averted her eyes at the sight of a man in his boxers, which meant she also missed his pretty identifiable tattoos. He dressed quickly, if she hadn't recognised him, he didn't want to give her the chance to.

"Orlando. I still hadn't sold my old place there when I married David, and I'm kinda glad I didn't." She said, standing and walking to look out the window of the hotel. Orlando. He hadn't been there for a long time. He hadn't been to Florida for a while, he thought to himself. Perhaps a visit was in order.

"I'm heading that way myself. Fancy some company on the ride?" He asked. He was surprised when the woman looked over at him and smiled.

"Yah know what? Riding through the states with a bloke built like a brick shit house at my side would have its advantages. I'm in. Know New Orleans well?" she asked, putting a hand over her stomach.

"Well enough. Breakfast?" He asked. She nodded, standing up and walking over to her boots. There was polite conversation between them as she got her boots on and he sorted himself out, before they left the hotel and headed for a place to eat.

He remembered a quiet cafe just off one of the mai8n strips, and that's where he decided to take his new friend. There was a look of recognition from the guy behind the counter, but a small "shh" gesture of a finger to the lips got a nod, and he carried on serving them as if he were just a normal customer. They barely spoke as they ate, Undertaker realising just how ravenous he was. He'd finished, she'd finished, and he was off in his own world again when she spoke.

"This fight is really getting to you, isn't it?" Zelkina asked.

"More than I care to admit." He replied, shaking his head. "I mean, I don't want to hurt him, he's a good man. Which is why he's in this situation to begin with." He sipped the coffee mug, and realised he'd drained it while talking. He signalled for a refill for them both, noticing she had tea instead of coffee. He still hadn't figured her accent. Either Australian or British, he wasn't sure.

"How so?" She poured some sugar in to her mug, as Undertaker explained.

"He's come back to stop Hunter and Steph from running the company in to the ground, and yeah, it's the right thing to do, but it's got him in a world of trouble with Vince." He paused, realising he'd given her a huge clue in to who he actually was, and looked at her as she stirred her tea. Nothing, no flicker of recognition, not even a glance. Either she didn't know, or she did and got the impression he wanted to keep on the down low. Either way, he was thankful. He sipped his coffee and continued. "Vince took the nuclear option, and stuck him against me. He knows the outcome. He know how I fight at this event. His kid's blood will be on his hands. How any father can do that, I don't know." He added. Zelkina paused from drinking her tea, holding her cup in both hands and leaning with her elbows on the table. Undertaker noted she wasn't altogether there, like she was somewhere else.

"Sounds like Vince has an issue with his kid. Is it his only son?" she asked.

"Son, yes. But he has a son in law who he seems to favour, Hunter, he seems to like him over his own son." He glanced at his watch. "If we want to be near Orlando today...it's about a nine hour ride, give or take. We've got time to pause in the middle of the day, grab food if you want?" She swept some black hair from her face and looked at her own watch.

"Sounds like a plan to me," she replied before draining her mug. She dug in her pocket and pulled out a coffin shaped wallet at which Undertaker gagged on his coffee. She gave him a smile as she laid down some cash for her side of the meal. "Let's get out of here." She added with a grin as the man tried and failed to surreptitiously wipe his chin free of coffee.

The road to Orlando was a long one, and as they rode up the I10, he allowed himself to think a little about the situation. As soon as that fateful RAW was over, his phone began ringing off the hook. He'd ignored them all, until Shane himself called.

"I guess you saw?" There was no hello, no "how are you?" in greeting. Straight to the point.

"Yeah, I saw. Your old man's taken leave of his senses."

"You're telling me. I take it you didn't get consulted on this one?" Shane asked. Undertaker snorted with a laugh.

"Did I fuck."

"Yeah, I thought as much. You wanna meet up to talk about this before you turn up at RAW?" Undertaker laughed again. He hadn't even been asked to show up, but all things considered he guessed it was a given.

"Away from prying eyes and cameras? Sure. Name the place. I'll be there."

The place Shane named was a cafe off Union Street in Nashville. Easy enough to find, and not too far from the arena. Both men had decided earlier in the day was a better time to meet, and come 9am, Undertaker was walking in the door of the small cafe. He ordered himself a coffee, and turned to see if Shane was there already. He saw the man sitting right at the back, and once he'd received his drink, went and joined him.

"Long time no see, kiddo," He said with a smile as Shane rolled his eyes.

"Still with the kiddo thing?" he said with a smile. Undertaker shrugged and sipped at his coffee. "So. What do we do?"

"Damned if I know." He replied. "Vince has lost the plot, I swear. He knows what I'm capable of, for fucks sake, and he's throwing his only son at me?"

"Yeah, I know. It's that kinda fucked, I wanted Mom to try get him tested for some kind of mental illness." Shane replied, shaking his head.

"That went well, I'll bet." Undertaker smiled at the thought of it being suggested to Vince.

"You could hear the expletives in Australia." Shane replied, at which both men laughed. There was a pause in conversation as they ordered food, resuming once they had re-seated themselves.

"So...how are we going to handle this then?" Undertaker asked.

"Perhaps you could use that wonderful charm you have as The Undertaker to give him a message, that it's all his fault if anything happens to me? That my blood will be on his hands?" Shane suggested.

"Think that's going to work?" Undertaker asked. "You know what your father is like...he gave up Steph to be my bride, after all!" he said, reminding Shane of the incident.

"To be honest, at the time he probably just wanted to get rid of her. She was being a hell of a bitch back then," Shane said with a smile, before both men burst in to laughter.

"I'll give it a go. If it doesn't work, we'll have to think of a plan b." Undertaker said as their food arrived.

"All the way up to an F for how fucked I am if I have to face you. Cause we both know it won't be pretty." Shane said in response, getting a laugh from the older man again.

He came back to reality to see Zelkina pulling over to a roadside diner. He followed suit, and with a grumble of his stomach he realised it was a while since breakfast. Parking up, he admired the few bikes and cars that were parked up. There were a few that were pretty sweet rides, he decided as he turned to Zelkina.

"If we don't get some food soon, I may eat my helmet." She said, with a smile.

"Sounds like a good plan. What are we, four hours out, give or take?"

"Something like that." She replied as they went inside.

As soon as they entered however, he noticed her body language change. He was used to picking up on these things during matches, watching for the slight changes that indicated the opponent he was facing was wearing down. But this wasn't wearing down. This was "I'm wary and on alert." And he knew it well.

"Something wrong?" he said in a low voice.

"I need the bathroom, then we leave. I don't trust this place." She replied in an equally low voice. Undertaker nodded, now he too was getting the uneasy feeling that they had just stepped in to a not so nice place. He took up a spot not far from the ladies toilet as he waited for Zelkina, and looked around the diner as if he was admiring the artwork on the walls. It was full of the kind of people he often saw on film. The rough and ready biker gang over the one side, dressed in their motorcycle leathers, stud, spikes and club patches. On the other side, the guys who lived for trouble and were built to brawl. Sleeveless t-shirts or tanks, all wearing similar jeans in black and blue. The tension was seconds from boiling over. It was like they had walked in to a brawl between the two gangs, and if they didn't get out soon, dressed as they were in their motorcycle leathers, and as Zelkina's leather jacket was incredibly similar to some of the gang, they were going to get in to a whole world of hurt. Undertaker realised it was down to him to protect Zelkina, surely she wouldn't stand a chance against some of the guys in here. A waitress walked past, and began to clear some plates at a nearby table who were vacating as quickly as possible.

"Get yourself and the girl outta here, sweetheart. Ain't a place for you both to be right now." She said in a low voice. He nodded to show he'd understood. As Zelkina came out of the bathroom, it all kicked off. Undertaker wasn't sure what started it, but the next thing he knew, the two sides were brawling. The wait staff were hiding behind the counter, one waitress was stuck cowering in a booth nearby. Zelkina saw her, and with a resigned look on her face, made her way over to the woman.

"Get behind the counter, I'll cover you." She said, helping her out of the booth and standing close by so she could dash to the counter. Undertaker was about to call out a warning, but before he could one of the gang who didn't look like bikers grabbed Zelkina by the arm.

"So, they got themselves a new member huh? Here's a taste of gang life for you." He swung for her, and Zelkina ducked, making him swing over her head. He swung again, and Undertaker watched, mildly amused as he missed again.

"Stay still you little bitch!" He growled, swinging a third time and missing again.

"You need target practise," Zelkina said, before swinging at him herself in a perfect uppercut, sending the man stumbling backwards. He found himself further surprised when she then executed a roundhouse kick to his dazed head, dropping him to the floor.

"I didn't see that coming," Undertaker said, surprised, before ducking as a glass went sailing overhead.

"Neither did he. Hope you can handle yourself in a fight, Mark, cause that's the only way we're getting outta here." She said, with a devilish grin as they face two of the man's friends. It was almost like she relished the idea.

"Oh don't you worry about me. I fight for a living, remember?" he said as a third man turned his attention to Undertaker.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she asked, before running at the two men facing her, jumping high and slamming her forearms in to their throats in a double clothesline, but with much more aggression than in a WWE ring. They dropped to the ground, one to his knees and one to the floor, both clutching their throats. She dropped to a knee, and gave the man on his knees a punch in the gut, followed by grabbing his head and bringing it down on her knee. The man on the floor backed away from her, begging for mercy as his friend howled in pain and fell to the opposite side, blood cascading from his nose.

"Mercy...please...don't hurt me." He said as she stood up. He scrambled to his feet also, a hand massaging his throat. Undertaker and the third man hadn't even engaged, they had been watching awestruck as Zelkina demonstrated her abilities.

"This your girl?" asked the third man, in a shocked voice.

"Nope. Only met her last night." Undertaker replied, as the third man was knocked down by a flying chair. He was distracted momentarily by this, which was lucky as he was able to deal with a fourth man running at him, and was flung up and over Undertaker's back, landing on a table.

Five minutes later, the pair were running from the diner, hopping on to their bikes and gunning it up the motorway as fast as they dared. It was a while before Undertaker lead them both in to a rest area just off the I10. They parked up and sat down on the grass near the parking spaces. He looked at her, fat lip, some blood from her nose, her t-shirt was torn beneath her jacket, the leathers scuffed. He knew he didn't look much better. She looked at him, and before he knew it, they were both laughing hard. There was a moment where they admitted to each other they didn't know how they made it out alive, and that they were lucky not to be even more injured.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" he asked. Zelkina shrugged.

"The streets. I had a bit of a reputation as a back alley brawler back in Florida, and back home in England." She replied.

"That's why your accent sounds familiar. It's been bugging me since I met you."

"Mother in law fucking hated I wasn't from the USA." She said with a smile. "Sometimes it was all I could do not to smash her face in."

"That reminds me. You owe me a story. About why she tried to run you down." Undertaker prompted. Zelkina laughed and ducked her head forwards, before brushing the hair that had fallen in front of her face back.

"Alright. After what we just made it out of, it's the least I could do."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Mother in Law

For an hour, they sat and talked on the grass. Or rather, Zelkina talked, Undertaker listened in awe that another human being could put someone through all the stuff she had been put through. The woman had lied, twisted and manipulated her own family, she had tried on what seemed too many occasions to Undertaker to make Zelkina severely ill, or to even kill her, the incident he'd overheard that morning not withstanding.

"What the fuck is wrong with that woman?" he asked. Zelkina laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm still trying to figure it out. If I'd known when I first met Darren his mum was bat shit insane, I'd have run away a long time ago." Zelkina replied, her hand going unconsciously to the scratches on her cheek.

"What were the scratches from?" He asked. Zelkina gave him a smile and shook her head.

"Leticia, my mother in law, found out we were looking for a house together. And that we had some savings to do it. I kept my savings separate, of course. It was a fund I'd had set up since I was a toddler, there was no way I was going to put it all together until the very moment we were going to buy. She flipped her lid, we were on vacation for fucks sake, in New Orleans."

"You'd just upped and left them when you headed to the hotel that night?" Undertaker asked. Zelkina nodded.

"Darren and I were there trying to repair our relationship. I'd said that if we could work this out, I'd halt divorce proceedings. We'd been there for a day when his mother turned up. Yeah, she followed her son to his vacation spot," She said when Undertaker raised his eyebrow in confusion. "When she found out we were trying to reconcile, she tried to beat the crap out of me. When her husband and Darren held her back, she stormed off. Next thing I know, she's driving the car full pelt at me, screaming "You'll never take my baby away!" as she did so." Zelkina explained, shaking her head. "I'd ridden my motorcycle, because I wanted a quick escape. Turns out I needed one. I dodged the car, ran upstairs, grabbed my stuff and got the hell out of there."

"So the divorce is definitely going ahead then?" Undertaker asked as Zelkina stood up and stretched.

"Oh fuck yes. If she can't let him go, I dread thinking what will happen if we had kids."

* * *

They reached the outskirts of Orlando by half 6 that evening, and Undertaker racked his mind trying to think of a hotel. He was pre-empted by her giving him an address and a phone number, and telling him if he still needed someone to talk to the following day, to come on round. Otherwise, she wished him the best of luck with what was happening, and perhaps next time he was in town he'd come say hi and let her know how it went. So that evening, he was alone in his hotel room, having checked in anonymously. He lay on the bed, much like he had done the night before, and watched the TV, thinking about the situation once again.

Shane next contacted him on the 11th March. The feeling that Undertaker's threats the week before hadn't worked was mutual, if RAW that week had been anything to go by.

"I honestly, truly don't understand what's happening here," Shane admitted over the phone to him. "Fuck, even Steph has come to me concerned. I mean, he set the security team on me!"

"I know." Undertaker had just finished dinner when Shane called, and was sitting at the table still with a glass of Jack Daniels. He picked it up and swilled it around the glass a little before speaking again. "He must know, especially from that, that you won't go down without a fight. Which of course means you are going to get even more hurt."

"I'm starting to think that's what he wants. Because I can tell you now, Taker, theres zero chance of him handing the reigns of RAW to me, not now. Regardless of any agreement we made in years past." Undertaker took another gulp of whiskey, and scratched his chin.

"Perhaps physically showing him what would happen might snap him out of his...mood?" he suggested, and smiled as Shane laughed at the other end of the phone.

"A mood isn't what I'd call it. Taken leave of his senses is more appropriate. But you think watching his only son get the shit kicked out of him might do something?" shane said. There was a pause as Undertaker sipped his glass and finished his drink, and the faint sound of a quiet slurp the other end told him Shane was doing the same.

"Mhmm. Might do. No guarantee about it, mind you." He replied, glancing at his empty glass. Mind you, what choice do we have? I can't lose at Mania, and he damn well knows it, it's why he is pushing it so hard." He scowled at the memory of his match with Brock Lesnar, anger rising up at the thought of the arrogant little shit ignoring Vince's instructions and taking the streak. Undertaker shook his head. What was done is done, although he was pretty certain several people wanted to lynch Lesnar still, and only hadn't at his request.

"Yeah, I know. Alright. We'll spar instead of the war of words he wants on Monday. Let's see what he makes of it."

Of course, it had done nothing. Vince had loved it, he was even more delighted than before when Shane came back through bruised. Undertaker had gone back stage to hear Vince and Shane having an argument, the area conspicuously free of cameras, and was about to intervene when Hunter and Steph pulled him aside. Steph shook her head and put a finger to her lips, indicating they shouldn't interrupt the verbal battle the pair were engaging in. As Vince decided they were done, and stormed off with his trademark swagger, Shane put a hand to his forehead, and then slammed a fist against the wall as he turned round to face them.

"Didn't work, did it?" Asked Undertaker, and Shane shook his head.

"If anything I think we just fuelled the fire. He's hell bent on this match, I know there's no way we're getting out of it. But..." He paused and shook his head.

"He has no idea what he's doing to you." Steph said, putting a hand on her brothers shoulder.

"It's not just me, Steph. Fuck, I'm a father myself now. My kids will be there. He does know what people go through in there, because he's been witness to a damn good few of them. He knows exactly what they are and what they can do to someone. But it's what it does to those they love that he has no idea about. Let's face it, I've been on his side here for years, I've done some pretty terrible shit to you, to Hunter, to you Undertaker," Shane gestured to the man, and Undertaker looked at him and nodded. "But he's never put anyone he cared about in that Cell. At least, not with the expectation they would pretty much be killed."

"We have to figure something out. There's no way you can half ass this to let Shane survive the mess." Hunter said. "We both know that he WILL know if you take it easy on him. Especially after what you did to me a few years ago." The four stood talking about the matter at hand, not sure what else to do, before Shane excused himself and went to shower and change. Undertaker did the same, wondering just how crazy this was going to get before Vince even remotely saw sense.

Back in the present day, Undertaker awoke in his hotel bed after a good nights sleep. Or at least, as good as he was going to get. He dressed and headed down to eat, before returning to his room. As he entered he saw the scrap of paper on the dresser that held Zelkina's address and phone number. He picked it up, looking at it in thought for a moment or two, before picking up his own phone and dialling the number. Today he wasn't going to waste time thinking about the match, he was going to think with a clear head tomorrow. The phone number rang, and rang, and kept ringing. Undertaker furrowed his brow, and found a sudden unease in his stomach. He grabbed his bike keys and all but ran from the hotel to the bike. After what he'd been told, Undertaker was prepared to bet her mother in law wasn't finished yet.

As he rounded the corner in to her road, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as a police car came in to view, its lights flashing. The next thing he saw as he came around a van was an ambulance. The sinking feeling intensified. Was Zelkina ok? What had happened? He came closer, pushing the bike as much as he dared with a police car present. Pulling up to the house, he saw the front window was broken, and the door had been kicked off its hinges. A sudden screeching and yelling filled the air, and he looked to the left. A second police car was behind the ambulance, and Undertaker saw two officers pushing a woman who was screaming insults and accusations in what he would term a deranged manner towards it.

"You whore! You'll never take my boy from me! He belongs at home with his mother, not gallivanting across the country with a slut like you! You've ruined our family, you've destroyed my baby boy!" She yelled. This must be the mother in law, Undertaker realised as the woman made a break for the ambulance, and was pretty much rugby tackle to the floor. Then he took in Zelkina sat on the back steps of the ambulance, being checked over. She had a cut on her arm, and looked like she'd been in a fight. The roar of the bike had made her look up, and she smiled at him as the paramedics decided she wouldn't need stitches.

"Hi Mark." She called, making everyone turn towards him. There was no doubt the paramedics recognised him, but at the ever so slight shake of the head, and the nod he got in return, there was no way he would be outed today.

"Zel...what the hell happened?" he asked, gesturing to the house and then her.

"Let me get seen to, and then I'll tell you." She said, as the radios of the paramedics sounded.

"Unit 23, we've got an emergency in downtown Orlando, RTA with several severe injuries, please advise your eta." One of the paramedics said they would have to send another unit, and was about to respond when Undertaker raised a hand and shook his head.

"Let me have a few supplies to clean her up, and I'll take care of it. Nothing needs hospital treatment right?"

"Well, no, it's just a few scrapes, but we really shouldn't" the second paramedic said, although the sound of worry in her voice indicated she too was concerned about the accident.

"Go. They need you more than we do right now."

* * *

The house was now empty and Zelkina, now patched up, had finished cleaning up the mess her mother in law made. Finally she made coffee, and sat down, a weary sigh escaping her lips.

"So...did you want to talk about what happened? I heard bits and pieces, but not much else." Undertaker asked.

"I can only think she must have driven through the night to get here, or something. I got home last night, woke up this morning to her hammering on my door, screaming insults. Then she actually broke the door down. I didn't think she had it in her." Zelkina said, with a small laugh, both hands holding the coffee cup in front of her.

"I have to admit, I'm wondering why she hasn't got a black eye, a broken nose and several other injuries, after the display at the diner." Undertaker admitted. Zelkina sighed.

"As much as I would have loved nothing more, it wasn't the right time or place. If I'd done more than self defense, I'd be the one in cuffs right now. We both know that. And she would have won. No, I restrained myself, somehow, and now she's seen for the lunatic she is. And she'll definitely get jail time now." There was a pause as both sipped at their coffee, and Undertaker looked over at the front door.

"How soon can someone repair that?" He asked, nodding towards it, and then the broken window.

"No idea on the door. Or the window. I should make some phone calls." She said, standing and walking over to where a side table had been knocked over, picked it up and picked up the house phone and directory that had been on it. Undertaker made up his mind, and told her despite her protests, he was staying the night to make sure she was safe. He then requested her tools, so he could at least make the door safe for the moment. He should at least atone for the beating he knew he was about to dish out. If he even went to Wrestlemania, that was.


	4. Chapter 4: Monsieur Tutu

Chapter 4: Monsieur Tutu

He lay on her sofa that night, and despite his best attempts, the memories of RAW two weeks prior came flooding back to him. He'd joined the roster for that RAW, not that anyone knew it outside that however. He'd been watching backstage when Vince made his oh so clever announcement, along with most of the roster. A lot of people, it seemed, were getting fed up of Vince's antics towards his son. As Vince uttered the words that if he lost, it would be Undertaker's final Wrestlemania, the room sucked in their breath as one. Undertaker's gaze turned icy, his fists balled unintentionally for a second and he forced himself to release his hands.

"You weren't briefed on this at all were you?" asked John Cena, his 15 year veteran eyes recognising the signals of a man just about stopping himself from ripping the boss a new one.

"No John. No I was not." His voice came out harsh and unrecognisable.

"What are you going to do?" asked Roman Reigns. Undertaker let loose his trademark thin smile.

"I think it's time Vince and I had words."

He'd marched to the Chairman's office for the evening as soon as filming stopped. Shane was there too, and he was pretty pissed off himself, it was clear. The younger McMahon simply opened the office door, and let him in. Vince sat with Summer Rae opposite him, and if Undertaker was to guess, she probably wasn't in there out of friendship. He glared at her, then looked past her and at Vince, before uttering one word.

"Leave." Summer needed little encouragement, and was out of the chair and out the door in seconds, the door slamming shut behind her. No doubt it would be retold in the ladies locker room that he had practically thrown her out and she was in fear for her life. Undertaker ignored Vince's gesture to sit, and Vince smiled at him as he spoke.

"Undertaker to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"You know damn well, McMahon. You put my fucking career on the line, and you didn't even bother to run it by me first?" Vince leant back in the chair and gave him the look he'd seen him give hundreds of other wrestlers. The "who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" look, that would have sent many a man running. Except Undertaker had seen it over and over again, and that shit didn't fly with him.

"I created The Undertaker, I can take it away if I wanted to."

"Except, you can't."

"Excuse me?" Vince was not caught off guard, he knew this. But Undertaker ploughed on regardless.

"You created my gimmick, it's true enough. But what I do out there? In public, in the ring? That's all my work. A gimmick is one thing, but you and I both know that if it wasn't for me, it would have fallen flat on its face with any other man. You may have made the gimmick, but it was my body, my actions in and out of the ring that carried it through. And if I wanted to, I could RUIN it for everyone."

"You wouldn't dare," Vince began incredulously. And for the first time he could remember, Undertaker realised he had Vince rattled.

"I could. Imagine all the thousands of people who come to Mania just to see me wrestle. Imagine all that glorious money gone. What if I go out next week in a pink tutu? What if I suddenly start being the complete opposite of this gimmick you cherish?"

"This is ridiculous, why would you do that?"

"Because I'm sick of being dragged in to your personal shit, McMahon. First, it was Steph all those years ago. Then Hunter. Now Shane. Your feuds don't concern me, they are fuck all to do with me, damn it. But so help me god, if you even consider setting up a career vs whoever match again without running it by me, I will lie down in that very ring the moment the bell rings and let my legacy fall flat on its face, do you hear me?"

"Are you threatening me!?" Bristled Vince, standing also now, both face to face over the desk.

"Threatening is a harsh word, Vince. I'm promising you that this WILL happen if you ever so much as fuck with my career in the slightest again. And if you piss me off more, I might well do it at Wrestlemania. Remember that next time you want to try use me as your bitch." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, tactfully ignoring the silent group of superstars that had gathered outside to hear the inevitable tirade from Vince, and had instead been rewarded with an Undertaker threat.

As he walked to his bike, Shane caught up with him.

"Well, if you wanted Vince shaking in his boots and pissed off at the same time, I think you managed it." He said as Undertaker sat astride his machine.

"I'm getting way too old for all his shit, Shane. All the mind games and all that crap. I want to wrestle as long as I'm able, with good, clean cut matches minus his trickery and bullshit. Hopefully I made him realise I'm not going to take his crap anymore." Shane nodded in agreement

"That was a low fucking blow, saying it would be your last without consulting you." He replied.

"He better hope I don't turn up in a pink tutu. Because right now, I am seriously considering packing one for Mania."

* * *

He awoke the following morning to Zelkina giving him a gentle shove. It was accompanied by the sledgehammer realisation that Wrestlemania was this Sunday and he had to decide today if he was going to bother turning up.

"Hey. Time you woke up. I don't wanna hear about pink tutus all morning, especially from a man your size," She said with a smile.

"I was sleep talking wasn't I?" he asked, sitting up. Zelkina nodded and replied that he was.

"This fight's really getting to you, more than you're letting on isn't it?" she asked, before heading in to the kitchen to make tea and coffee. Undertaker admitted that yes, it was. He didn't really know what he was to do. As they drank, he admitted he wasn't 100% sure he should go to the event. That it was his career on the line and if he lost, it would be the last time he fought there. Zelkina listened as he vented, and as Undertaker sipped his coffee, she spoke.

"You follow wrestling?" She asked, almost making him spit his coffee out.

"Yeah, why?"

"Similar thing happening with The Undertaker's storyline." She replied, before sipping her tea. Undertaker wasn't sure if she was pulling his leg now, but went on with the facade anyway "Except he seems to want to smash in both Vince and Shane." He remarked.

"True. But you know what I'd say to him if he were here?" she asked. Undertaker shook his head and motioned for her to continue. "I'd tell him to beat the living shit out of Shane, which I know is just what he wants. But then once he's out of that cage, get a hold of Vince and beat the living shit out of him too. Or beforehand, either way. He's made his son suffer, he should suffer too. After all, the match is set in stone, there's no avoiding it. And Taker can't go easy. Too obvious." She added with a shrug before standing and taking her mug to the nearby sink. Undertaker was now of the opinion that she was just humouring him by not admitting who he was. And yet, at the same time he couldn't be 100% sure that she was just playing along.

Zelkina had a few errands to run, and asked him to stay at her house for the window repair man while she did so. He admired her trust in him, she didn't have to, but she seemed to just...know he was an ok guy. He didn't feel much like an OK guy at the moment though. Zelkina had set him up with a soda and some chips, and handed him the TV remote, telling him to help himself to chips and soda if he ran out, and left him to it. Which meant his mind drifted back once more to the previous Monday, the one that had made him run away from everything.

It wasn't the fight in the arena, he realised, that had made him want to get away. No, it was after the show. He and Shane were talking quietly away from everyone. Neither was happy about what was going on, but both knew they were at the stage now that they couldn't get out of it.

"Well, we'll just have to make it look bad, but not actually go for it, I guess?" Shane shrugged and massaged his arm, sore from their onscreen scrap.

"You know and I know the fans won't even fall for that, never mind Vince." Undertaker replied. He cracked his knuckles, partially wishing he was beating the shit out of Vince in that cage. "No, there's no leeway on this. We have to go at each other, else Vince will drag this out for eons. Talk of the devil," Undertaker nodded to behind Shane, and he looked to see the chairman making his way towards them. He wasn't in a jovial mood.

"You two...you are making my life a living hell right now," He spat with venom.

"Well if you didn't let Steph and Hunter run the place in to the ground we wouldn't be in this situation." Shane countered. Undertaker watched as the two McMahons verbally jousted for a few minutes, before Vince turned to him.

"And you! You threaten to turn up in a pink tutu?"

"I didn't threaten, I promised. Keep it up and it might just jump to including bunny ears and a pom-pom tail." He replied back. If it were possible, there would be steam coming from Vince's ears right now, Undertaker decided as he gazed down at the man.

"You're willing to throw your whole career away, destroy the company, over this?!" He exclaimed, gesturing to his son. Shane looked back at his father indignantly.

"I told you I was tired of being involved in your personal shit." Undertaker straightened up, looking down at the billionaire with his cold steel gaze yet again. "And I mean to end my involvement. You will be very, very lucky if I don't break out of that cage and come after you once the match is over."

"If this company falls apart, because of your antics, it will be on both of your heads, and I'll make you pay for it, bit by goddamn bit if I have to!" Vince yelled, before turning on his heel and walking off. That's it, Undertaker decided. I'm done.

He'd gone back to the hotel, headed home and was on his bike by the following morning. Phone call after phone call had come his way since then, and meeting with Zelkina had been a good distraction, at least for a little bit. Undertaker let out a heavy sigh and sipped at his soda. He knew he'd be going back. He knew he couldn't let the fans down, people who had travelled from the world over to watch the fight. He was distracted by a knock at the door, and he realised it must be the window repair man. He set down his soda, and hoped Zelkina wouldn't come back in the interim, just in case she truly was ignorant of the fact The Undertaker was in her home.

He booked his flight for the following afternoon, and that night insisted on taking Zelkina out for dinner, as a thank you for what she'd done for him. Although she insisted she'd done nothing but let him vent. He knew that and told her so, but it was more than that. She had helped him clear his mind, and re-focus on what was important. And for that, he was very, very gratefull. Zelkina came with him the next day to see him to the airport. As they parked up, he realised with a heavy heart, he was going to miss her. She had been a ray of sunshine in what had been a pretty dark time for him.

"What about your bike? Don't you need to check it in?" she asked as he got off.

"Nah. Here." He handed her the keys. "Look after it for me."

"Are you mad? That's a couple of thousand dollars worth of beautiful, beautiful machinery right there..." she began.

"Which is why I trust you to look after it." He replied.

"You're mad."

"Maybe." He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Listen, i just want to say thank you, one last time. You heard me out, let me vent and clear my head. It was appreciated, more than you know." He said, glancing at his watch. His flight would be boarding soon. He gave Zelkina a hug as he decided he'd better get a move on.

"Wow, a hug from The Undertaker...I should have recorded that for posterity," she said with a cheeky grin at his surprised face.

"You knew?!" He exclaimed.

"Yes, "Mark," I knew." Zelkina laughed.

"When?"

"From the moment I laid eyes on you. I wasn't going to fan girl out on you. I could see you needed an escape, not to be mobbed, even if you are my favourite wrestler. Besides. It's been kinda funny watching you trying to keep your identity a secret." She grinned. "Seriously though. My offer still stands."

"Offer?" Undertaker furrowed his brow.

"Next time you're in Orlando, come say hi. The drinks will be on me."

* * *

As Undertaker and Roman walked towards their hotel, Undertaker found himself thinking about the year prior. He'd left a photo of a pink tutu in Vince's office for the show, just as he'd headed to the stage. Apparently the boss had a fit, making both him and Shane decide the cage match was worth it. After he'd changed and headed back to his hotel, he got a text message. "Good match. Knew you had it in you" It read. It made him smile, and it was nice knowing someone outside the wrestling circle had his back.

This year they were in Orlando, and his mind drifted to Zelkina. He wondered how she was.

"You ok? You drifted a moment then," Roman said with a grin.

"Yeah. Thinking about an old friend, y'know? Actually, I think you'd really like her." He added as they approached the entrance.

"You think so, huh?"

"I do. I might arrange to meet up with her later..."He said, his brow furrowing and his voice trailing off as he heard the sound of a motorbike coming in to the parking lot. It sounded way to familiar, and as it died, he turned to see a woman sat on a familiar motorcycle. It was his bike, he realised and the woman was Zelkina, a grin on her face as she flipped up a pair of sunglasses.

"You sure took your time coming to get this thing." She said. The grin was infectious and Undertaker found himself smiling.

"Well, I didn't know when I'd be down here next. Bit out of your way though isn't it?"

"Oh, I came to see you kick ass like usual. Getting your bike back to you was a bonus." She replied, stepping off the bike and walking up to them. Undertaker didn't miss the appreciative eyes with which she looked Roman up and down. "So. You going to introduce me to your... victim?" Undertaker chuckled.

"Roman Reigns, meet Zelkina Blackheart." He watched her flash Roman a knee buckling smile as they shook hands.

"Pleasure to meet you," Roman let go and readjusted his bag, clearly disorientated. There was zero point pretending Undertaker could see it in his eyes.

"Oh, the pleasures all mine." She replied. "Speaking of pleasures, I believe I said the drinks were on me?" She asked, turning to face Undertaker. He nodded and the pair walked inside, leaving Roman stood watching thunderstruck on the steps. Undertaker paused, realising he wasn't with them and turned to call back to him.

"Reigns. Are you coming or not?!" he called. Roman snapped back to reality, his bag slipping off his shoulder as he hurried inside to join them.

THE END

* * *

Thanks for reading this short fic! I never had any intention of making it a massive thing, so I really hope you enjoyed what you've read so far, and check out my other fics! Zelkina xxx


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